


and you can get what you want (but it is never enough)

by oximore



Series: [Hedge Witch Quentin AU] [2]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Magical Tattoos, No Refractory Period, Not Canon Compliant, Q with tattoos, Quentin’s refractory period is very short at least because of reasons, Tattoos, also probably because of tattoos but shush the plot is barely there, but they are bad at feelings, hedge witch AU, hedge witch julia, hedge witch quentin, i mean not really a plot except maybe hint at plot, it was written AGES ago but never posted oops, julia is barely there, major difference being that Q is aware that he is bi/pan, mostly they bang who am i kidding, same for margo really, self awareness is amazing, so this is a thing, sorta beta read except not the latest version fingers crossed it's not too bad guys, they have feelings, those dumbass are so into each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oximore/pseuds/oximore
Summary: One-night-stands were great as long as they stayed just that, a one-night-stand...





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this was partly beta read by moregeous-kieren except then I tweaked it so I may have add more mistake (I'm just that good). English not being my mother tongue I'm not completely sure it's perfect but this is what it is and somehow I felt the need to continue that Hedge Witch AU! (ok that's a lie this part 2 is more or less moregeous-kieren's fault basically)

 

 

 

Eliot woke up before Quentin.

 

It struck him as strange for some reason. Quentin hadn't drink _that_ much yesterday as far as Eliot had seen, and Eliot himself wasn’t exactly a morning person. He couldn’t help but think that maybe it was for best - he should do himself a favor and disappear before Quentin woke.

 

In all honesty he knew it would be for the best. One-night-stands were great as long as they stayed just that, a one-night-stand, especially with Hedge Witches, who were rarely more than desperate and avid second-rate magicians with little to no training.

 

Except Eliot couldn't get himself to put Quentin in that category, even if he was just a one night stand. For some unknown reason, it didn't sit well with him to think of Quentin as just that, another "lowly Hedge Witch". He knew he had to go back to Brakebills sooner rather than later - if only because Margo would likely start a search party at one point if he didn’t came back rapidly enough without warning her. Staying was a terrible idea.

 

And yet last night offer lingered in his head, as much as he wished he could pretend it didn't.

 

It wasn't even that Quentin was an extraordinarily talented lover, no. Quentin had mentioned that it had been a while for him and truly Eliot could tell he wasn't a regular at the whole casual sex thing, even without that admission. Or at the gay sex part of thing really. But it didn't change the fact that Eliot had enjoyed their night more than plenty of previous affairs. Worse even, just thinking about last night made Eliot heart beat faster and his body tingle, his half interested cock hardening at the thought of Quentin making good on his offer. Maybe he should put that on the list of cons too, how hungry he was for it.

 

Eliot had never been good with wanting things and this had no reasons to be any different. In fact, this had almost all the required conditions to be a disaster.

 

His arm, he finally noticed, was spread across Quentin's body, almost possessive. Eliot was reticent to remove it just yet, albeit irritated at his own shortcomings. His eyes traveled down Quentin’s sleeping form. There was an artful array of tattoos on Quentin’s body that were nothing like the usual star system he had seen on Hedge Witches. Most of them were on his right hand and arm, but they overflowed on his shoulder, his rib and probably down his back too. He hadn’t paid them a lot of attention the previous night, his mind otherwise occupied at the time, but now that he took the time to look at them he realized they were proper spells. He couldn’t recognize all of them but most were quite far from what Hedge Witches usually managed. He couldn't help wondering how Quentin got them.

 

A small part of him couldn’t help being surprise that someone like Quentin, who seemed able to find genuine awe in magic, wasn’t at Brakebills. Eliot couldn't say he fully understood their recruitment techniques, but it seemed peculiar that Quentin hadn’t been picked up. Not that he should even care really – after all what did he knows about Quentin? Maybe he had failed the entrance exam, maybe he had never been invited at all.

 

Eliot couldn’t help but touch one of the tattoos, following the lines along the shoulder, then down the arm. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Quentin wasn’t the type for tattoos, unless they would be magic involved with them.

 

He finally moved, needing to get himself to the bathroom, almost not bothering to put his boxers back on but settling on doing it. Not that he really cared about walking around naked but this wasn’t his place, and he had no idea if Quentin lived alone. It seemed like it but who knew when someone could come in?

 

He cleaned himself a bit in the process and dared to borrow something to wash his mouth with. He didn’t think Quentin would mind. Getting back in the bedroom, he noticed the room was full of books, fictions, fantasy, some obviously about magic. Many looked well loved, and he was pretty sure he could see a few first editions.

 

Eliot hadn’t been wrong about the nerd thing apparently.

 

“Oh,” Quentin breathed out, awake and surprise clear on his face, “you’re still here.”

 

Eliot questioned his decision of staying but didn’t let it show, choosing to be casual about it.

 

“Is that a problem?”

 

Quentin eyes widened and he quickly shook his head, sluggishly sitting down on the bed, not quite looking at Eliot as much as in his direction. He was, Eliot recalled as the sheets moved, completely naked underneath those. It was distracting.

 

“Not at all…” he said, “I guess it’s just that I wasn’t sure you would be?”

 

Eliot didn’t blame him. He hadn’t been sure he would still be here either. “You expected me to discreetly disappear for a walk of, well not-shame as far as I’m concerned, didn’t you?”

 

Quentin laughed, sounding slightly cautious.

 

“Let’s say I was giving it a fifty-fifty chance yeah,” he said, moving around in the bed until he found what he was looking for – his boxers – putting them on quickly before moving to the bathroom. “Kady always said you Brakebills are all hit and run…” he added from the bathroom voice echoing slightly in the apartment, “So I guess I wasn’t too sure how this would go?”

 

Eliot snorted – whoever Kady was, they weren’t wrong per se.

 

“What can I say,” he responded as Quentin came back in the room, sitting himself on the edge of the bed, “I can never refuse a good offer.”

 

Quentin didn’t quite blush, but he looked somewhere between embarrassed and pleased. It was a good look on him, though Eliot may have been a little biased. Something in the way Quentin was, both quietly awkward yet never meek, turned out to be curiously charming for Eliot and he liked it more than he’d like to admit.

 

It was strange for him, to find himself liking someone past the late night infatuation that led to sex. Then again, when he slept with people outside Brakebills, he generally never stayed the night. Never wanted to before. Silence stretched itself expectantly between them, Quentin looking unsure about what to say, making Eliot’s skin prickle until he just had to do something. His hand reached for the back of Quentin’s head as he leaned down for a kiss. Quentin rose to meet his lips, mouth already opening, both of them tasting slightly minty. His hands went to Eliot’s waist, bringing him closer and yes this still _really_ worked for him.

 

Eliot was more impatient than he had been the previous night and glad neither of them had bothered to put on more than their underwear. It already was too much as far as he was concerned. He had been half hard and hopeful for a while now, which was why it didn’t take long for him to get fully hard - not with Quentin’s hand already slipping under his boxers. But there was something Eliot wanted to do since last night, something he hadn't got to really enjoy and as much as he needed Quentin to fuck him he felt greedy this morning. He pushed Quentin back on the bed, getting rid of his boxer quickly getting his mouth on him with almost warning.

 

"Shit!" Quentin swore, hips buckling and Eliot just took it, swallowing him down, hands barely pushing Quentin back, not really trying to keep him still. "Fuck Eliot…this is going to be over ridiculously quickly if you do things like that!" Quentin managed to articulate, raising himself on his elbows, and clearly Eliot wasn't doing his best job if he could still talk.

 

He pulled himself back briefly.

 

"I guess we'll have to test that refractory period of yours then." he said with a smirk, mouthing along the underside of Quentin’s cock before taking him down his throat again.

 

Quentin fell back on the bed with a gasp. Eliot looked up to see his spine arch, his eyes unfocused. He laughed lightly at the sight, the vibrations tearing a moan out of Quentin. When he tried to talk, this time, he was beautifully incoherent. Still, his hand reached out, tentatively finding the back of Eliot’s head. Fingers slowly tangled themselves in Eliot's hair, tightening slightly once they got a good grip, as if Quentin was checking if he could to that, before staying there. Eliot almost feel it down to his toes, each time the hand would tighten a little and yes - this was exactly what he needed.

 

He knew Quentin was trying to keep himself still, but his hips were sporadically pushing forward, tiny thrusts he couldn’t fully stop and that Eliot didn’t bother to block not even trying to pin him down. He enjoyed it, the brief choking sensation, being on the brink of pain but not actually in pain, a part of him wishing Quentin would fuck his mouth senselessly. But the hand in his hair, he understood, was trying to stop him from choking rather than to push him down. The realization made Eliot slightly dizzy with lust when he tested it, trying to force himself too much and too fast only for Quentin’s hand to squeeze harder, blocking him completely.

 

_“Don’t.”_ Quentin managed with a groan, making Eliot keened, his own arousal spiking.

 

He could feel himself getting sloppier, hands moving from Quentin’s hips to his cheeks, fingers trailing along the crack, suddenly set on making Quentin come quickly. He barely pushed two fingers in before sensing Quentin’s stomach fluttering, his body contracting in a way that told Eliot he was nearly there. Though the insistent tugging in his hair was enough of a hint. He stubbornly refused to move, even as the strong grip in his hair tried to pull him back, not until Quentin came with a long shiver and Eliot waited for the last tremor to quiet down. Only then he allowed himself be pulled away, liking his lips as Quentin’s raised him up and relished gleefully in the small needy grunt he got out of Quentin as he was yanked up into a sloppy kiss.

 

“How am I suppose to fuck you now?” Quentin whispered against Eliot’s lips.

 

“I bet I can make you hard again.” Eliot promised, voice hoarse, the urgency of his own need crashing back onto him as the high of getting Quentin off slowly went down.

 

He reached blindly for the lube, his mouth barely leaving Quentin’s, luckily finding it in the sheets near them. Popping the cap open, he arranged himself above Quentin, slicking his fingers idling wondering if he could get Quentin hard again like this, hands slipping back down. If last night hadn’t been a fluke, he was pretty sure he could. Quentin moaned, his dick twitching when Eliot’s fingers pushed inside him again, he was probably still oversensitive but spreading his legs further apart nonetheless.

 

“Though you wanted it the other way around?” he breathed out, shifting subtly on Eliot’s finger, instinctively looking for a better angle.

 

Eliot dipped down for a quick kiss on Quentin’s neck.

 

“That’s absolutely what I have in mind,” he told him, “I’m just getting you back up for it.”

 

He tried to curl his fingers the way he had that night and grinned when Quentin gasped, his entire body going taut, his cock slowly hardening. He mumbled something Eliot didn’t understand against his mouth, nipping softly on Eliot lower lips when a third fingers went inside him. It didn’t take as much time as Eliot thought it would before Quentin grew impatient too, hands reaching for a condom and putting it on so swiftly Eliot believed there might have been magic involved. Eliot fingers slipped out and he was about to get the lube when Quentin stopped him, sitting up, one hand gripping Eliot’s wrist, the other catching the bottle and condoms.

 

“No,” he said, “I want to do it. Just, tell me if I do it wrong?”

 

Eliot breath caught in his throat and it was his turn to babble something close to an agreement and “ _yes please, please, please”_ until finally Quentin’s fingers stretched him, a welcomed familiar burn. He was still straddling Quentin without really sitting on him, pretending his thighs weren’t trembling as he was opened up so slowly and so carefully he started to feel lightheaded. Quentin hadn’t lied about figuring things out quickly. Eliot wouldn’t have minded him being less meticulous in his prep – he had done with far less in the past – but then Quentin’s inquisitive fingers found his prostate and he lost his train of thoughts completely, his legs almost giving out.

 

“How do you…” Quentin started to stutter, voice flatteringly rough, and Eliot didn’t have to wait for the end of that sentence to get it.

 

How Eliot got both of them the way he wanted was mostly a blur he didn’t bothered to remember, only caring that he ended, at last, spread on his back, legs around Quentin’s waist as Quentin pushed into him painstakingly slow. He could distantly hear Quentin’s ragged breath under the thundering sound of his own heartbeat, Quentin sliding in deep, his hands gripping Eliot’s hips so painfully tight Eliot hazily hoped there would be bruises later. It wasn’t the easiest angle but he didn’t care, not when it meant he could watch, that he could reach out to touch.

 

By the time Quentin was fully inside him, Eliot was a leaking mess and the angle stopped mattering completely. If anything he was glad it wasn't perfect so it could last longer and Eliot felt so close to coming despite the fact that Quentin hadn’t even moved yet. When Quentin finally moved, thrusts firm, almost rough, Eliot gasped, hands reaching for him, dragging Quentin’s head down, thrilled to find him as starved for a kiss as he was.

 

Something about kissing Quentin made Eliot feel _light_ – as ludicrous as it sounded – an addictive thing that even made sex seem like an afterthought in comparison. It was almost too much, the acute sensation of being _seen_ and liked as he was fucked. His skin felt too tight. Perhaps it was all too intimate, stirring an old unease, an half forgotten fear of somehow losing some of his own self along the way, to let too much emptiness show out on the open. But the creeping sensation was swept away as Quentin bit down on Eliot’s lower lip hungrily, clumsily eager and wonderfully unapologetic about it.

 

Quentin didn’t bother with the layers of appearance and careful self-preservation Eliot had on. He walked around raw, exposed in a way that stirred up something in Eliot, making him want to steal bits for whatever make him so for himself. With Quentin inside him it almost felt like a facade was coming undone.

 

Neither of them lasted long. Eliot fell apart barely a moment after a slick hand cradled his dick, quivering but managing to stop Quentin from pulling out, wanting to feel it when he came. Blunt teeth sank into his shoulder when he did, making Eliot wish he could match Quentin’s refractory period. He tangled his hand in Quentin’s hair with a small moan as Quentin fell on his chest before slipping out. His head nested against Eliot’s throat as he caught his breath, both basking as long as they could in the afterglow.

 

They definitely needed a shower after that.

 

Things oddly lacked awkwardness as they shared the bathroom. Once they both managed to get dressed, Eliot was offered a pretty terrible coffee that he drank with only the tiniest bit of complaining, making Quentin laugh, both of them feeling mellow and still reluctant to part just yet.

 

That’s when a young woman suddenly appeared, making them both jump. Eliot wondered if everyone came here via portals because he couldn’t remember hearing the door.

 

“Q! I need you to get…” she started before stopping altogether when she saw Eliot, “oh! You have... company?” she sounded surprised and a tad wary, her eyes not leaving Eliot.

 

“Uh, hi Jules… could you just…”Quentin started.

 

“I was about to leave actually.” Eliot cut-in, abruptly losing the carefree and pleasant momentum, the urge to rush back to Brakebills soaring fast inside him.

 

The girl managed to disappear somewhere in the rather small apartment, giving Eliot and Quentin some room as Eliot hastily parted ways. He was almost glad for the interruption, whoever she was, for making reality crash into him as violently as he needed it.

 

Being back at Brakebills felt different, somewhat comforting.

 

He knew the rules here, he knew who he was, where he was going – as bored as he had been with the current prospects. Here, he felt like he had a very nice unexpected one-night-stand that could stay just that. If they hadn’t been interrupted, Eliot knew he could have done something really stupid, like asking Quentin for another time, a phone number or an actual god-awful date. And really? A date? With a Hedge Witch?

 

Margo questioned him a bit about his night, nothing unusual considering how rare it was for him to actually spend the night.

 

“I figured your night went better than mine but I hadn’t expected it to be that good” she said when she saw him get back in the physical kids house.

 

He laughed, telling her he was just as surprised before recounting it all while staying vague enough about a few things, choosing not to mention Quentin had been a Hedge Witch. He asked about her apparently dreadfully mediocre night after that and it had been the end of it.

 

At least, it should have been.

 

A few weeks later, more than a little drunk, Eliot allowed himself to admit that he regretted not asking for Quentin’s number – or for something, anything really, to maybe get in contact again. He had been relieved when Quentin didn’t ask him for it, too happy to leave the one-night-stand that turned into a weirdly emotionally charged night before feeling too cagey about it.

 

Not being asked about a way to see each other again had felt like a reprieve after that morning, and he had been grateful but he felt rather bitter about it now.

 

Eliot knew it was more than a little hypocritical, he just didn’t care, enough alcohol in his system to ignore his own dishonesty, sourly wondering why Quentin hadn’t’ even tried. He sighed, sending the freshmen whose name he couldn’t remember back to wherever he came from, not in the mood anymore and fully planning on drinking until he hopefully forgot about the whole thing. Not that it ever really worked before, but Eliot was nothing if not constant in the attempts.

 

 

 

Unsurprisingly, the same night, Margo decided that she was done with his brooding and that it was due time for an intervention...

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> herm so this may have a third part... or maybe not no promises... (I technically started writing a third and fourth part in this universe a while back except it got away from me & hasn't been beta read yet and... yeah it's not really a thing yet)
> 
> Anyway, thx you for reading hope it was semi-enjoyable at least! :)


End file.
